


Teacher's Pet

by Miss_Shiva_Adler



Series: Overwatch fanfiction collection [4]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: BDSM, Caning, F/M, Femdom, Heavy BDSM, Impact Play, Mistress Mercy, Oral Sex, Overwatch Kink Week, Sexual BDSM, Teacher!Mercy, Teacher-Student Relationship, light humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-27
Updated: 2018-03-27
Packaged: 2019-04-13 17:10:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14117037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Shiva_Adler/pseuds/Miss_Shiva_Adler
Summary: They had both agreed what his reckless and vandalistic behavior would get and right now he was asking for it.Day 4 of Overwatch Kink Week of March 2018: school girl/teacher kink





	Teacher's Pet

**Author's Note:**

> Mercy x Roadhog is my first imposed ship for the kink week. I played many scenarios in my head on how to tackle this and decided to settle for the current setting, some kind of Correctional School AU with Teacher!Mercy. 
> 
> This fic contains BDSM, a power imbalance [Student/teacher relationship], slight humiliation and hard corporal punishment with a cane like object. [This fic is written with the P.R.I.C.K. BDSM principle in mind]

He had explicitly made sure he’d get caught. He wasn’t stupid, he knew very well how to cover his tracks if it was needed. Once again getting caught had been a deliberate thing. He had almost waited for the supervisors to come and get him. The voice of that Russian supervisor rose into the room. He didn’t look at her. He wasn’t interested, he looked at his nails instead. “Miss Ziegler will be coming shortly.” He answered with a gruff sound in his chest, almost looking bored. Of course Miss Ziegler was coming as fast as she could. She was the class teacher, it was her duty to discipline and sanction any of her students when they were being violators of rules, especially if they had been destroying school property. He wanted to see her, have her blue judging eyes on him, make her smile as she did whatever she pleased.

“Mister Rutledge.” Her voice, her tone, all was disapproving and he was _liking_ it. He stopped playing with his septum piercing as she approached the desk he was sitting at. Her blonde hair was stuck into a tight bun. Her blue shirt and black pencil skirt were clinging to her body as if it was a second skin and her wristwatch was matching the pale colour of her skin. She wasn’t wearing any stockings today. “I must say that you understand very well why I am here.” She gestured the supervisor away. Her whole body was moving in bold intent. The black heels were echoing on the classroom’s floor. She was angry. Mako felt the trepidation and excitement stir in his core. She put her hands on the surface, her upper body oozing a dangerous aura she only showed in situations of sanction and discipline. Her small necklace, a gift he had secretly given to her, dangled in front of him. He averted his eyes, pretending not to care. He wanted her to rage, to be more angry, more unforgiving than usual. It had an effect since her tone was even lower. “Curious enough Mister Fawkes is once again not part of this masquerade.” He shrugged, knowing it would piss her off.

“I do not enjoy sanctioning you like this, Mister Rutledge.” That was a lie, he locked his eyes with hers. She was lying. They had both agreed what his reckless and vandalistic behavior would get and right now he was _asking_ for it. “But you leave me no choice.” There it was, the transformation from Miss Angela Ziegler to Mistress Mercy. A woman of power and control. If he was the type to smile, he currently would. It was sure that his cock at least twitched in response to the change of her body language. “Now, Mister Rutledge, I think you know what comes next.” Next she would bend him over the teacher’s desk, her desk, she would punish him and maybe, only maybe, if he was lucky, if worked hard enough for it, she would let him touch her. She crossed her arms over her chest. She was visibly waiting for him to say something.

“What would you have me do, Mistress?” It was hard to swallow when her blue gaze was scrutinizing him. He was so much taller and bigger than her. But right now he felt incredibly small. “The usual, Mister Rutledge. On your knees.” He would crawl up to her desk, which was the thing he usually did. He looked down at his hands when he went on all fours for her. She moved away to let his crawling frame pass by. She took a few strides ahead. The shine of her black heels reflected his face. That felt incredibly good to see. He waited. He sat down on his knees when he arrived next to the desk. She slid open one of the drawers and took out the ruler - more like a rod really - she used to discipline him with. “Pants off, Mister Rutledge.” He stood up and removed his belt, knowing she might want to use it as well, as she sometimes did. Mako wasn’t shy about his nudity. He religiously took off his shoes and socks as well and let his pants slide off his hips. He neatly folded his trousers and boxer short, putting them right next to the desk together with his shoes. Mistress Mercy preferred when everything was well organized. He wanted to satisfy her to every aspect. She gestured with her well-manicured hand that he had to lie over the teacher’s desk.

The familiarly cold wood against his chest made him shiver. The white shirt of the summer uniform was thin and when he didn’t have his belt or pants on it would just hitch up enough for his underbelly to be bared. Her hand caressed the back side of his thigh. He laid down his face sideways against the desk. There was no place he’d rather be and who he’d rather be with. The nails scratched the surface of his skin, the prickling sensation scorched through him. She would spank him sometimes as a warm up. But it looked like she wasn’t going to this time. Had he pissed her off well enough today so she would finally cut to the chase? Good. He didn’t want any warm up. Everything was going to hurt so much more and he was _happy_ about it. She was moving behind him and made the wood caress his skin in an almost sensual way. A romantic dance before the pain. Mako flexed and unflexed his hands. He gripped the border of the desk. He had to stay in place because if he slipped up and she missed her impact she would stop everything. He’d have to write down an essay of three pages instead as a punishment. It had happened several times in the earlier days. He had _hated_ it.

As per usual the first whack of wood against his rear didn’t hurt. It was the second, on the exact same spot, that made his breathing lock up in his throat. She hummed, pleased. He exhaled soundly through his nose. The third whack arrived on the spot between his butt cheeks and thighs. The impact resonated through his bones. Of course he felt like she was splitting skin. But she wasn’t. She never did. He laid his forehead against the wood, closing his eyes. A fourth, a fifth and even a sixth hit, all on the same spot, and he felt himself gripping the border harder. The pain was burning through his whole body, the hurt seeping through his mind. He felt himself descending into the state of mind only she was able to stir inside of him. He felt himself being swallowed by a familiar fog of relief when she hit him on another spot. Heat radiated from the newest pain spot. There was going to be a welt there as well. Mistress Mercy hit him in light rapid succession on the first spot she hit. The pain built up in rapid pace. The more she hit there, the more it hurt. He gruffed and hissed in response. Until the ruler left his skin. He didn’t have time to breathe before a very forceful whack almost made him lose sight. His mind was starting to get dizzy. She repeated it once, twice. He had asked for it. The pain was lapping at his core, his rear was throbbing all over. Her hand sometimes ghosted over his body. He would moan to it. He would moan to her caress being the full opposite of her other administrations.

She hit him again and his whole back tensed; he was burning up, burning under her touch until only ashes would remain. There was only her. Minutes, hours passed. He couldn’t recall. There was her and that ruler and their connection. After one vicious strike he felt his eyes almost prickle in tears. He felt raw and the bruises he’d get in the morning would remind him of every whack against his skin. He would think of her. Even if he didn’t have class with her he would remember. It’s to his surprise that the ruler then fell on the ground. “That’s it, I’m too impatient,” She said, her voice was slightly trembling. “Get off that desk.” Her order was law and he let himself slump off the wood. In a sort of foggy gaze he registered that she approached him. Mistress Mercy lifted up her skirt, her black thong was sliding in rapid movement from her hips.

_It was everything he had ever wanted._

He sat back on his knees, waiting for her. She sat down on the desk, her crotch at the level of his eyes. He locked his gaze with hers to prevent himself from weeping in gratitude. Her musk scent made his mouth water and he felt like the thirstiest man alive. His tongue stuck to his palate as she spread her legs, her folds parted slightly at the movement. He let himself take in the sight and the vision she was displaying for him: Her blue gaze locked into his, the smirk adorning her lips and her clothes were slightly disheveled, a Goddess amongst men. He would kiss her shoes if she’d let him. Her fingers caressed his jaw, the pain was still lingering on his body, and he pushed his cheek into her caress. “Get to work, boy,” her eyes were almost tender in their stare. “Yes, Mistress.” He managed to say. She gripped his hair that was still stuck in a ponytail and guided his face toward her core.

He stuck out his tongue, the smell and taste coated his mouth. He let out a growl of satisfaction and he let his tongue slide over her. She sighed and petted his head. Her legs swung over his shoulders as he crawled closer to her. He explored her folds, she hadn’t allowed him to do this in such a long time. She let out a whimper when he let the tip of his tongue circle her bundle of nerves. He licked up and down and her body shivered, humming in pleasure. It was all so perfect. He set up a steady pace, knowing she preferred her pressure on her clitoral hood and less on the underside of her clit. He moved his lips against her inner folds, teasing her core. Then he went back to his usual steady pace before letting his tongue explore again. She was clawing at his back around the collar of his shirt. He groaned at her nails digging in his skin. There was her and only her and he couldn’t feel more exalted when she was rocking her hips against his mouth.  She took hold of one of his hands that was braced against the border of the desk for balance. His heart was singing the most joyful song when she brought one of his fingers inside of her. Her heat enveloped his knuckles. The rocking of her hips became more urgent and her moans were a real pleasure to his ears. He continued the steady pace of his tongue as his finger went in and out of her.

She was almost whimpering and knowing just that made him bold with a new resolve. He curled his finger up, doing circular motions against the flesh there. She froze, her mouth hung open, it was a strangled cry of pleasure. He kept moving his finger. Her nails scratched at his scalp. His tongue was still active against her bundle of nerves. Her body shuddered as she came. Then she sagged backwards against the desk. She used her heel on his shoulder to stop him from moving. Her breathing was irregular, and so was his. Her body looked wrecked, as was his mind. Miss Angela Ziegler was the most gorgeous woman in the world and he was in love with her. She took her time to come back to her senses. She sat back up and extended her arms toward him. It wasn’t an invitation he would refuse, his own arousal long forgotten. He moved to join her in the embrace she was offering. “Well Mister Rutledge, you’ve been a very good student today.” He closed his eyes, taking in her flower perfume of her shirt. “A very good boy, indeed.” That one praise was truly what he lived for. He pressed his face even harder against her stomach, hoping that one day she would return the feelings he had for her.

The end

**Author's Note:**

> Ship was imposed by a friend and in the end I had lots of fun writing this. I also think that from now on Mistress Mercy should be a thing.


End file.
